


Killing Kisses

by beatleslaz



Category: McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles
Genre: F/M, M/M, early beatles, teenage beatles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4251111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatleslaz/pseuds/beatleslaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some writing practice. So there’s this morbid song called “I’d love to kill you,” by Katie Melua and its pretty freaky but there’s a line in there, “I’d love to kill you with a kiss” and that inspired this but this fic wont be as morbid as the song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

John stared as casually as he could over to the bar of the Cavern where his best friend sat. He truthfully could barely see Paul in the dim light of the club but didn’t mind, he could still tell what his friend was doing. He watched as Pauls’ hand touched the little birds lightly, his eyes gleamed with a desire and his lips closed in on the target. The girl, who looked around seventeen- same age as Paul- blushed as she was touched then casually kissed.

It was soft and quick and it made John cringe. Paul did this, he didn’t know if Paul knew what he was really doing but he always did it. Finding a girl and flaunting her around had become the younger boys favorite pass time since he had joined a band. Being in a band got you girls and Paul was using that to his advantage.

It wasn’t that the girls were always pretty or that they had big tits or seemed like they’d be good bunk mates for the night, it was that, they got Paul.

It was always the kissing that got John upset, it was Pauls' shy little innocent moves to take a girl somewhere in the Cavern- usually where people could plainly see- and kiss her. John had even tracked what kind of kissing Paul wound do. He’d kiss the bird once, just give her a small taste of chocolate, then after a few minutes- because Paul always wanted to get her hopes down that that would be all that would happen for the night- he would put his drink somewhere, take the birds hands and place them around his neck before delving into the cake completely.

It was odd because John wanted that, he wanted to just kiss Paul. Very plain and simple. Just to feel those nice plump lips on his, those hands dig nails into his skin when he moved to the younger lads neck. John dreamed about it, wanked to it, day dreamed at school about it. Just him and Paul sneaking off somewhere private, Strawberry Fields no doubt, and being with each other sharing little kisses and writing.

But, John was sadly _watching_ most of these things happen. The blond girl willingly let her arms be wrapped around Pauls’ neck and he moved closer, looking into her eyes before kissing her.

God it hurt.

It made John feel weird because he wasn’t mad at the bird, he was mad at Paul. Mad that Paul was so fucking thick, mad that Paul couldn’t see who really cared about him. It was so wrong though, John was straight, John liked girls, but then again, John liked Paul.

It was nothing too new to John, since the day at the fete he had known there was something very different about Paul. But since then John had lost his mother and the two had grown closer, they had a night of nothing but crying and letting everything out. They were suppose to be writing but when Paul saw Johns pen shaking in his hand, the distant look on his friends face, he knew John hadn’t cried. He didn’t quite know how he knew but he did. And he was right, it had been a whole week since Julia had died and John had held it all inside until Paul wrapped his arms around him.

All night he was held, cradled in his own room till the early morning when he couldn’t cry anymore. It was because Paul understood the pain, Paul understood him.

After wipeing away his tears, Paul told him everything was going to be alright and left, jacket slung over his shoulder and bags under his eyes as the morning sun was creeping through Johns window. John had peeked out of his window and watched Paul walk down the dew covered sidewalk and, that, was when John fell. He wanted Paul to come back, to touch him the same way he had that night before and kiss every tear away.

But right now John was blinded, Paul hadn’t talked about that night, hadn’t done anything and it made John upset, more than upset.

So, right now John watched from his table as Paul made out with the pretty blond girl that he seemed very proud to have since he was slowly sliding his hand under the birds dress.

That was it, John snapped, this was the last time Paul would flaunt a girl in front of him, this was the last time John would go home in a heap because he had to watch his best friend walk away from him- abandon him- for a sweet little bird who was willing to give herself on the first meeting.

John stood from his table and sighed, he was ready, he had thought of doing this before and now, being blinded by jealousy, he started for the bar. The bird was obviously already randy and pulled away just as John started to near, “Lets go somewhere more private yeah?” she asked in a heavy Irish accent. A little voice in johns head spoke, “Always liked the Irish ones ey Macca?” Paul nodded and stood but was quickly put back into his seat by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry hun, Pauls’ a bit busy tonight we ‘ave some writing to do if you don’t mind us just, ya know, leaving.” Paul and the dim looking blond bird looked at John, Paul looked shocked and the bird looked upset, down that she obviously would definitely NOT be going home with James Paul McCartney. Paul wiped the look of his face, “John uh, can’t that wait till tomorrow? Alice and I were about to leave,” he said, motioning to the girl beside him with a wink.

_“Don’t fucking wink what do you think the two of you would have done if you left? Gone home and fucked? Like hell Macca,”_ This, is what John wanted to say but did not. He kept a smile plastered on his face and casually said, “Go fuck off down the rabbit hole Alice,” before grabbing Pauls’ arm and dragging him out of the club.

“John what the bloody hell do you think you're doing you fucking psychopath! Let. Me. Go!” Paul yelled as they walked up onto the cold disserted street. Paul rung himself free and got into a stance almost like he was prepared to punch John. The older scoffed, “What are you gonna do, hit me?” he asked and right then he felt a searing pain in his jaw and fell to the ground.

“Yeah John look I hit you! What the hell did you think you were doing? Did you see her she was fucking gorgeous and now she’s gone, well, no, I’m gone thanks to you!” Paul yelled as John looked up from the cold ground. “I thought I was doing you a fucking favor,” the older said quietly as he stood up. “A fucking favor John? The ‘ell’s that s'pose to mean? I was gonna get up that birds skirt and you thought you were doing me a favor? Fuck you!” Paul yelled as he started to walk away.

John coughed as he stood up and held his jaw, tasting blood, “No please, don’t leave,” He called after Paul who was to far down the street to hear him.

God John felt terrible, he had let his emotions get the best of him, he had made a fool of himself and now Paul hated him. He didn’t want that.

It was simple, John just wanted to be with Paul. Mostly just (as dumb as it sounds) holding hands, kissing, normal stuff but now as he sat in the cold snow covered silent street he felt tears prick the backs of his eyes and jealous anger flood his stomach. “FUCK YOU PAUL MCCARTNEY!” He yelled after Paul whom he knew couldn’t hear him.

John wiped his nose before running the opposite way to Mendips


	2. Part 2!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some writing practice. So there’s this morbid song called “I’d love to kill you” by Katie Melua and its pretty freaky but there’s a line in there, “I’d love to kill you with a kiss” and that inspired this but this fic wont be as morbid as the song.
> 
> I don’t own John, Paul or Michael and Alice is a made up character.

 

Paul was livid, he stomped across the snowy ground on his way to his house. The fluffy white flakes crunching beneath his feet and his cheeks turning red from the cold and his anger.

“How could he,” Paul thought, “just… do that? Fucking interrupt and then… uhh, Fuck!” Paul kicked a trashcan that was standing in someone’s drive, his foot instantly sending a searing pain to his brain. “Fuck!” He yelled, crippling with his foot in his hand as he hobbled down the street. “Dammit, Fuck this… Fuck John!” He thought as he tried to straighten up and walk.

John had been so immature, just jealousy. Paul was sure John was just jealous of the bird he had been with. Oh and he had picked a nice one to, blond hair, curves, plump little lips begging to be kissed and huge tits begging to be touched.

Fuck John.

And he was satisfied with his comeback. The rage was still roaring threw him when he hit John. Something he had never done before and something he wouldn't have dreamed of doing a few years ago.

Last he remembered John was stood up in the snow, yelling something Paul couldn’t hear. And now, Paul was making his way to his own house.

When he could walk as normal as possible, he reached with trembling fingers to his coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette. The sound of the lighter clicking open and closed was the only sound on the quiet street that still had snow coming down onto it.

It was a beautiful night, the snow was the softest kind, not hard and frozen but like a blanket kissing the ground and trees and rooftops with gentle lips.

Paul calmed down for a minute, stopping in his tracks to admire the beautiful work that nature had done to the gritty, greasy port town. It was rare but beautiful that someone, even one of its own inhabitants, would look at Liverpool as a beautiful work of art that should be hung in a gallery but that was just what Paul was doing.

It was so calm compared to most days, so nice a gentle and damn if Paul could have taken that girl home, Fuck! The anger returned and the spell was broken as he tossed his ciggy and started back down the street to his house.

When 20' Forthlin Road came into view Paul could see his brothers light still on. Stopping in front of his house he brushed some snow away from the ground and grabbed a handful of rocks. It only took two throws to get Mike’s attention. “Oi! Unlock the window!” Paul whispered up to his brother who nodded and scurried down the hall.

Paul made his way to the back of the house to the pipe him and Mike would use to sneak in or out. Securing his gloves he gripped the metal and started up. It took some practice to know where to put their feet and hands but Paul was a pro at climbing by now.

The window above him creaked open and there was Michael, “Hurry up you're letting heat out,” he said and Paul scoffed in discuss as he pulled himself up. Mike put his hand out and helped his brother up threw the window.

The latch was closed and locked when the elder was securely inside the bathroom. “Why are you home so early?” Mike asked with a mischievous smile because his brother obviously hadn’t snuck anyone in with him.

“Because my friend’s are arssholes,” Paul mumbled before silently going to his room. Mike smirked before silently tip toeing back to his own domain. Paul never meant a single ill word he spoke of his friends and his brother knew it.

Once the house was nice a silent again Paul turned his bedside lamp on and started to shed his clothing. His jacket was draped over his small desk chair while his shoes and to-tight jeans fell briskly to the floor. The guitarist climbed into bed, thankful for the small heater Mike had turned on while he was gone and with a small grunt got comfortable under his covers. With a final angered sigh he turned off the lamp and rolled onto his side.

It was almost one in the morning and Paul was drifting on the edge of unconsciousness when he heard a crack. Fallowed by another, and another. Looking at his window he sighed and “oofed,” off the bed.

_“Probably George, wonderin’ why I left the club so early,”_ Paul thought sleepily as he stood at his window and, with part of his shirt, wiped the frost from the glass.

The boy squinted at the figure below and all the anger came whirling back. He braced himself for the cold before opening the seal. “What he Fuck do you want?” He snarled at the man with auburn quaffed hair in a leather jacket with a half smoked cigarette hanging out of his mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three coming soon!!! 
> 
> Do you like it???


End file.
